by Gayle Curtis
‘Oh no he won’t, I’ll just deny it all.’ Gloria turned the key in the ignition and started the car. ‘I need to go now. Please get out.’
‘You can deny all you like, Gloria. If you don’t help us with our investigation, I’ll make sure you go down with him. I’ll make sure it’s known that you were complicit in everything that bastard did.’
‘You can’t do that without implicating yourself,’ Gloria said quietly.
Rita breathed in deeply and reached across to switch the ignition off. ‘Do you know what prison is like for women like you? Rich and high-profile, married to a nonce? When this story gets out, it’s going to be huge. Your husband is the big AP – the Big Apple, as he liked us to call him – known worldwide.’
Gloria hadn’t thought about any of this. It hadn’t even occurred to her she might go to prison, serve a sentence for something she hadn’t done. But when she thought about it, she was guilty. She’d known what was going on, and however much she told herself she had been threatened, coerced for all these years, she’d still not told anyone, had just turned away from the truth. And if she were being really honest, some of it was because of the privileged lifestyle she enjoyed. Every time she thought about telling someone, or leaving, it all boiled down to the consequences and the fear of what would happen to her afterwards, if anyone even believed her.
Gloria felt Rita’s hand touching her arm, bringing her back into the present. ‘Come in and have a chat with us. I promise we’ll look after you. We’ll get you to a safe house if necessary, police protection.’
‘It won’t come to that, surely? Adrian’s not a nice person sometimes, but he’s not a monster.’
‘I think you’re underestimating him,’ Rita said gently.
‘I know my husband, Rita. I’ve lived with him for twenty-five years.’
‘Did you know it isn’t just girls he’s interested in? Boys too? Some as young as five.’
Gloria began to shake her head, trying to block out what Rita was saying.
‘Little children, Gloria. Innocent kids, wowed by Adrian’s fame, eventually becoming so infatuated with him they thought they were in love.’
‘Stop it, stop it!’ Gloria placed her hands over her ears. She felt sick, didn’t want to imagine what those children had been through, what Adrian and his disgusting associates had made them do.
‘Adrian was involved with Raymond Hammond and Cara Fearon and you can help us secure a conviction. All you have to do is get out of the car and come inside. Please, Gloria, I’m begging you.’ Rita’s voice broke. ‘You can stop this happening to anyone else.’
Gloria calmed herself down, breathing in and out deeply, just like her therapist had taught her to do.
‘Lorna Devlin committed suicide because of what Adrian did to her,’ Rita said. ‘There’ll be more like her if he’s not stopped. He’s been doing this for over thirty years. He’s now grooming and abusing his victims’ children.’
Gloria stayed quiet. She was thinking about Lorna, the talented gymnast who had shown promise for greater things. Adrian had spotted her at a gymnastics session that was held at his club. Gloria had been surprised how tiny the girl was when Adrian had brought her to the house; she was almost thirteen but seemed the size of a nine-year-old. She had beautiful shiny dark hair tied up in a ponytail and a permanent smile on her face. A few months later the smile disappeared and she had been replaced by a pale-faced girl with dark circles around her eyes. Everyone said she’d killed herself because her parents had been so pushy all those years. Then Lorna’s mother had died of cancer recently, and people speculated it was the shock that had made her so ill.
‘Come on, Gloria, you don’t want to be labelled a nonce, and that’s what will happen. We can present you in a good light.’ Rita squeezed her arm tighter, and Gloria thought about all the women who’d been connected to high-profile killers and paedophiles. She’d be hated, her life would be over, and she’d end up with nothing.
‘It’s awful to say it, but we need to make you a victim, and the time to do that is now, before it’s too late. The alternative is you’ll be the most hated woman in Britain.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
There was persistent knocking at Kristen’s front door, but she didn’t answer it. It would only be a reporter; she’d told family and friends to call in advance. At last, she heard one of the liaison officers, Liz Rickman, answer it. Let her tell the press to bugger off, she thought. It had been a long and difficult day. Her mother had organised a wake after the funeral, the last thing Kristen had wanted or needed. And her mother was still reeling from the news that her grandson’s father was a tramp. At any opportunity, she would attempt to question Kristen about it, as though perhaps it was just a misunderstanding she might clear up. When this didn’t work, Kristen would catch her glowering at her. She had the impression, in light of what was being printed about Amos in the newspapers, that her mother thought Raymond’s death was Kristen’s fault for getting involved with such a man.
Liz stepped into the kitchen a few moments later. ‘There’s someone I think you might want to see.’
Intrigued, and knowing Liz wouldn’t let anyone into the house Kristen didn’t approve of, she went into the hallway to see who it was.
Amos smiled at her, tears in his eyes. ‘Can I use your shower?’
Kristen had talked at length to Liz about her relationship with Amos. Opening up to someone who was practically a stranger had felt easier than talking to anyone close. She’d expressed her feelings for Amos, emotions that had only surfaced following Raymond’s death. Following that chat, Kristen had realised she was still in love with him. And now, here he was, as though summoned by that conversation with the detective.
Kristen placed Amos’s clothes in the wash while he was in the shower. Wrapped in a towel, he spent the evening with her, talking everything through. It was late by the time they finished, so he stayed, sleeping in Raymond’s room, next to hers. That night she was plagued with nightmares. She dreamt she was back on the sofa in the sitting room. Raymond was standing next to her and she woke briefly to look at him, but the vodka in her veins dragged her back beneath the comforting murk of the ocean she was swimming in.
Kristen awakened with a gasp, as if it really was the night of Raymond’s murder. She stepped out of bed and walked over to the window to close it. The wind had picked up and something outside was making a persistent, irritating noise. She peered down at the small front garden, where the fence and shrubs were adorned with bunches of flowers and little cards expressing sympathy, and realised the sound was the cellophane catching in the wind. When she looked across at the green to where she’d found Raymond, an excruciating pain tore through her and she wrapped her arm around her stomach, bending forward to try to ease it. She recalled staggering from the sofa that night, seeing the tent empty, the flap to the entrance gently moving in the slight breeze, then the click of the door as she closed and locked it after her, assuming the children were upstairs asleep in bed. The guilt that would never leave her and the pain that would never subside drowned her in the dark room, and she screamed out like a tortured animal caught in a trap.
Amos burst into the room and picked her up off the floor, placing her curled body on to the bed and sliding in behind her.
‘I want to die.’ Kristen sobbed into the darkness that never seemed to bring her any comfort. ‘I don’t want to live without Raymond.’
She felt Amos squeeze her tighter. ‘You have to. We have to live, for his sake.’
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Rachel had been charged with murder and had been told she wouldn’t be granted bail. When the custody sergeant had explained everything to her, Rachel put her hands over her ears, closed her eyes and began shaking her head.
‘No. No. No. No,’ Rachel continued to say, over and over again. She refused to quieten down while everything was explained to her, so she was taken to a cell and left there.
Rachel paced the tiny room, trying t
o compose herself. No one was going to take any notice of her while she was hysterical. Visions of Howard coming towards her flashed through her mind, his hands tight around her throat and the panic of not being able to breathe. She couldn’t remember when or how she’d picked up a kitchen knife from the rack, but it was in her hand and it plunged into Howard’s stomach as if someone else had done it. She’d watched him stagger backwards and drop to the floor but had left the house and gone straight to Phil’s. It was self-defence, that’s what she should have told the police in the interview, but she’d been so focused on the promise DCI Cannan had made her about witness protection, she’d assumed she had a free pass. She realised it had been stupid to think that, now she’d murdered her husband. If only he’d left when she’d first asked him to, none of this would have happened.
After a few minutes of silence, she heard someone coming down the corridor, and the custody sergeant peered through the small hatch before unlocking and opening the door.
‘Would you like something to eat?’
‘No thank you. I just need to speak to the DS who interviewed me.’
‘Do you want me to call the duty solicitor?’
‘No. Thank you. I don’t need one. I just want to tell him something. It’s important.’
The custody sergeant looked at her pityingly. ‘I’ll go and speak to DS Fraser and get back to you.’
Rachel climbed on to the bed and wedged herself into the corner and waited, finding comfort from rubbing her head along the cold wall.
Half an hour later, the custody sergeant returned but there was no DS Fraser. ‘He’s not here, I’m afraid. Maybe get some sleep and you can speak to him in the morning.’
‘No! I have to talk to him now.’ Rachel’s stomach contracted as if it were trying to evacuate her body, like she’d been tipped upside down on a theme park ride.
‘Get some rest and think about having some legal representation. They’ll be able to help you in court,’ the custody sergeant said before the door was closed again.
Rachel closed her eyes and quietly sobbed at the injustice of it all. The years of unhappiness she’d put up with, how she’d tried to leave on so many occasions but Howard had manipulated her into staying – once, when he was drunk, even threatening to kill her and Cara if she ever dared. She was trapped, and the only viable option, in her mind, was death. When he’d initially mentioned the insurance scam, she hadn’t hesitated to go along with it because it meant getting rid of him. She hadn’t been able to believe her luck. Then he’d been found and the police had brought him back, and she felt all the old, familiar feelings of anxiety return.
Diminished responsibility and all that entailed suddenly gave Rachel an idea. She stopped crying, went over to the door and tried to peer through the small hatch to see if the corridor was empty.
Rachel needed to show the world she was mad. Perhaps she was mad. She didn’t care anymore.
Her prolonged silence brought the custody sergeant back to her cell to check on her. Rachel had stripped herself naked and banged her head so hard against the wall she’d made herself bleed, really quite a satisfying amount. It kept coming. She’d smeared it across the floor and painted herself and the walls with it – an enormously gory scene – and then she’d lain down on the floor and curled up into a ball to await discovery.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Dean fell into step with Jody, nudging her with his elbow. She gave him a sidelong glance, checking what mood he was in. He could be a little temperamental at times, and with everything that was going on, she thought he’d be in a foul temper. His parents had been informed of his affair with Rachel and of course, it had been in most of the papers. Now it would start all over again, with Jody having just heard she’d been banged up on a murder charge. It was like the woman had her own TV show.
‘I bet I’ve missed loads at school?’ Jody said sarcastically.
‘It’s my first day back, too. You get time off when you’ve been shagging your teacher.’
Jody saw the wry grin spread across his face and laughed.
‘I heard she was arrested?’
Dean stopped walking and Jody shoved her hands in her pockets then turned to look at him, but continued slowly along the pavement, walking backwards.
‘Well, I know that, don’t I,’ he said. ‘She was nicked because of me. We were caught in the back of the Drum and Monkey.’
Jody stopped walking. ‘Dean, she’s been nicked again, for murdering her old man!’
‘No way!’
‘Yes way. Stabbed him to death. She’s well screwed.’
‘I thought her husband was already dead, in an accident or something?’ Dean said, clearly pissed off he didn’t know.
‘Everyone thought that, but they’d been involved in some insurance scam, pretended he was dead, but the police picked him up last week. She clearly wasn’t happy to see him,’ Jody said, rolling her eyes. ‘Blimey, Dean, what planet have you been on, it was all over Facebook.’
‘I’ve been grounded and my phone and everything confiscated – my parents are well pissed off with me.’
‘She’s proper crazy. I thought she’d been seeing my dad. You do know she’s pregnant, don’t you?’ She could tell he did know, and she was slightly put out that he hadn’t told her. They’d been best mates for years. ‘Hey, that kid isn’t yours, is it?’
He started towards her and they fell back into step again. ‘Apparently so.’
‘Why are you getting done for shagging her?’ Jody said, frowning at him.
‘I’m not. They questioned me because we were shagging when I was fifteen, although I was practically sixteen.’ He spoke to her as if she were stupid.
‘You’ve got to admit it’s a bit weird. I mean, she’s well old.’
‘No, she isn’t! Fuck off,’ Dean said, a smile hovering on his lips.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, your Mrs Fearon has been remanded in custody, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred, straight to prison.’
Dean didn’t say anything.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Who cares if your teacher’s going to prison? She was a bit of a dick anyway.’
‘No, she wasn’t.’ He sounded indignant and she cocked her head to one side.
‘Quite a big crush there, Dean? Still fancy her, do you?’
‘Fuck off, Jody.’ Dean began to walk ahead of her. She caught up with him and grabbed his bag, pulling him backwards.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.’ She stared at his sulky face, but he just shrugged. ‘Tell you what, let’s go to the greasy spoon and I’ll buy you a bacon sarnie. School doesn’t start for another half an hour. We can skip assembly – no one will notice.’
‘All right,’ he said, and they began walking together again.
‘Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?’
‘Everyone keeps saying that.’
‘But I’m your best mate. Worried I’d be jealous?’ she said, nudging him, trying to make a joke but wishing she hadn’t.
‘Why would you say that?’ He looked really annoyed and slightly pink-faced. ‘Fuck, you talk some shit sometimes.’
They walked in silence for a while.
‘I guess I’m just a bit surprised,’ Jody said, thinking aloud. ‘I had no idea and I guess I assumed you’d tell me something that huge.’
‘It’s really weird, but even though I ended it, I kind of miss her.’
They instinctively stopped at the bench by the churchyard. It was to be another day they wouldn’t attend school. They’d go to the café for breakfast and end up back at the bench, then as the sun warmed the earth, they’d move on to the grass between the gravestones, joined by more friends fed up with school, and they’d listen to music amid the quiet of the dead. Dean had a really cool grandma who lived nearby, and she always fed them at lunchtime and sent them away stocked with fags. Jody loved going there.
They were quiet
until they sat down in the café.
‘Sounds like heavy stuff,’ Jody said.
‘Not really. We had fun and it was great until we got caught. It was exciting. Now everything’s just boring.’
Then they were quiet again. Jody was thinking how her life was full of secrets and not boring at all, but she didn’t say anything to him.
‘Hey,’ she said, ‘did you know I was hauled in about the Mackenzies? That twat Cannan, the one who’s always on the news, she convinced herself it was me.’
‘No way! The old dot left the gas on, didn’t she?’ Dean was laughing properly for the first time that morning and it made her feel good.
‘Something like that.’
Jody stared up at the sun that had crept from behind the church spire and was blasting light through the window and directly into her eyes. She reached across and turned the blinds, getting a look from the café owner.
‘She came to our house the other day,’ Dean said.
‘Who? Mrs Mackenzie?’ She began making ghostly noises, waving her hands in front of Dean’s face. He brushed them away, laughing.
‘No, der-brain, DCI Cannan. She gave me a right grilling. Wanted to know if I’d ever been to Adrian Player’s house or any of his gyms.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘No. Obvs. I only went a few times, used my dad’s membership. Didn’t tell her that, it’s not worth the hassle.’
‘They know Raymond went there, though?’
‘Yeah, he was going there with Cara. Mrs Fearon gave them lifts sometimes, although it was supposed to be kept hush-hush.’
They sat in silence after they’d placed their order. Unsaid words hung heavily in the air between them, making the atmosphere feel awkward.
‘Don’t ask me about my dad, Dean.’
‘I wasn’t going to. Can you do me a favour?’
‘Sure. It’ll cost you,’ she said, grinning at him.
‘I’m supposed to deliver this for Adrian, but it’s difficult for me to do anything at the moment. I’m worried, what with everything that’s going on, that I’m being watched.’ Dean lifted the top of his rucksack and tilted the bag towards Jody, showing her a brown package wrapped in tape.
